The Shadow Troll roared. Its crude, stony claws extended.
It was a lumbering brute. Born of twisted faith and dark magic. A crude imitation of primal strength. Jack, still in his specter form, didn't waste time with chanting.
He activated [Blinding Flash] from his spectral grimoire. A burst of pure bight light erupted from his body. Washing over the warehouse.
The Shadow Troll recoiled. Its unholy eyes searing with pain. The remaining acolytes shrieked. Clutching their faces. Momentarily disoriented. It was enough.
Before their vision cleared, Jack casted a volley of [Magic Missiles]. The arcane bolts shot forth at the Shadow Troll. Each bolt struck with concussive force. Chipping away at its rocky hide. The creature roared in pain and frustration.
And even before the barrage of arcane missiles ended, Jack had casted another spell. A chilling hum filled the air. [Void Cut]!
A shimmering, almost invisible blade of pure void energy materialized. Tearing through the air. Carving a silent, devastating arc.
The acolyte who had summoned the troll was still reeling from the flash. He suddenly found the Void Cut slicing clean through his torso.
There was no blood. Only a surge of dissipating dark energy as he collapsed. Lifeless. One down. Four mere remaining.
The lead acolyte was recovering faster than his comrades. He screamed curses. He hurled another blast of black fire. But Jack was already gone. Phasing through a stack of crates as if they were mist.
The black fire struck the crates. Setting them ablaze. The warehouse was becoming a fiery, chaotic mess.
Jack noticed that the surviving cultists, including the two still ensnared by the [Vine Entanglements], were in a tight cluster. Without hesitance, Jack activated... [Chain Lightning].
A jagged bolt of pure, crackling energy erupted from his spectral hand. Arcing from one acolyte to the next. All of them, even the two acolytes still ensnared by the [Vine Entanglements] writhed in desperation as the lightning coursed through their bodies.
Their forms spasmed. Their dark energy flickered for a while. And then... extinguished. The vines, now devoid of targets, receded into the floor.
Only the lead acolyte and the Shadow Troll remained. The troll, partially recovered, lunged at where Jack had last been. Smashing through more crates. Its movements were sluggish. Its form was still in pain from the Magic Missile barrage earlier.
"You'll regret this, Damn Ghost!" The lead acolyte shrieked. His face was contorted with rage. He began to chant, letting out a series of bone-chilling, insidious incantation that promised something truly abominable.
Jack wouldn't allow it. He invoked [Mysterious Anomaly]. Suddenly, the warehouse walls seemed to melt. Replaced by swirling limitless darkness.
The lead acolyte froze. His eyes were widening in horror. He saw not Jack. But a legion of screaming, tortured souls. Their skeletal hands were reaching for him. Whispering his deepest, most primal fears into his mind.
The illusion was so real that even Jack himself almost got spooked by it. For the lead acolyte, it was even worse. His chant broke. Replaced by a choked gasp of terror.
The Shadow Troll was less susceptible to mental attacks. Yet, it still stumbled as the ground beneath it seemed to twist and contort. Revealing gaping maws and shadowy abysses. It roared its confusion. Its lumbering charge faltering.
Taking advantage of their disorientation, Jack didn't waste a second. He mumbled some incantations. The words were resonating with strange, otherworldly power. The [Forceful Frog-morph] was activated.
The Shadow Troll shimmered. His form contorted. Shrinking rapidly. His skin turned slick and green. His features stretched into a ridiculous, yet harmless form.
In seconds, a plump, green frog sat where the troll had been, croaking feebly, utterly bewildered. The spell wouldn't be able to hold for long.
But it was long enough. For Jack to cast [Void Cut]. Another shimmering, faint blade of pure void energy materialized. Splitting the frog into two, right in the middle.
The dead Shadow Troll reverted back to its original form. The dead one.
The lead acolyte snapped out from his personal nightmare. He roared and accumulated mystical black fire in his hands.
Witnessing that, Jack raised one eyebrow and muttered. "Dumb guy!" While quickly preparing his [Portal Wards].
The lead acolyte hurled the huge, accumulated black fire in his hands to Jack. Who casually activated his [Portal Wards].
Two black-hole barriers sprang into existence. One absorbed the black fire. The other spitted out the same absorbed blackfire. Striking back and incinerating the unsuspecting last acolyte.
He screamed painfully. For a few seconds. Before completely turning into ash.
"Killed by tour own spell? How pathetic." Jack commented drily.
The warehouse was silent. Save for the crackling of the burning crates. And the distant noises. Jack sighed. The eight Fallen Acolytes were dealt with. Very quickly. Too quickly in fact.
He sensed Spider's commotion outside. A symphony of destruction and distraction.
He quickly floated back outside. Other than the last corpse that turned to ash, the corpses of the seven Fallen Acolyte and the bisected Shadow Troll floated out along with him.
Outside the warehouse, Lonestone Capital City was a cacophony of urgent alarm. Spider wasn't just making noise. He was conducting an orchestra of panic.
Abandoned tenements... Dark hulks of brick and decaying wood. They blazed with unnatural intensity. Flames licked high into the night sky. Their orange glow painting the industrial docks in a hellish light.
"Woohoo! Look at 'em burn!" Spider zipped out of the buildings. A translucid whirlwind of childish glee and spectral gloom.
Nearby church bells, usually ringing solemn hymns, now tolled with frantic urgency. The noise was immense, a siren call for trouble. And trouble answered.
The particular part of the Church District was a chaotic sight of fire. Jack watched the spectacle. The orange glow of the burning tenements reflecting in his unseen eyes. Spider had done his job. Now, it was Jack's turn.
A sudden surge of power rippled through the air. Jack felt it before he saw them. Flashes of golden light. And the dull gleam of polished steel.
A crowd of golden-robed figures. Their expressions were stern and unyielding. They appeared beside a cluster of armored City Enforcers. These were the heavy hitters.
The transcendent individuals from the Church of Prosperity and the City's Elite Law Enforcement. The ones who truly held power in the Church District.
Jack registered Spider's absence. The young ghost had vanished. Phasing through the concrete floor of the warehouse. Good. He was where he needed to be, guarding the children.
Jack, however, remained visible. He floated easily above the cobblestones. A specter in the shape of a stage-magician. Masked. Cloaked. Holding a spectral torch and a spectral grimoire.
Around him, suspended in the air, drifted the seven corpses of the Fallen Acolytes. And a bisected corpse of a Shadow Troll. A grim, macabre display.
A hulking figure stepped forward from the Enforcer ranks. Commander Thorne, the man in charge of the City Enforcers. His hand was resting on the hilt of his heavy greatsword. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, fixed on Jack.
"You!" Thorne's voice was a loud roar. "Identify yourself. Explain this disruption. Why instigate such trouble in the Church District?"
Jack tilted his masked head. The eight dead cultists orbiting him in silent accusation. His voice, when it came, was a soft, spectral echo. Yet it carried an undeniable weight.
"Trouble? You call this trouble, Kid? I call it a cleansing."
With a casual flick of his wrist, the eight bodies plummeted. They struck the cobblestones with wet, bone-jarring thuds. Scattering singed fabric and dust. A collective gasp rippled through the assembled transcendent individuals.
"These..." Jack gestured to the grotesque pile of bodies. "... should be your responsibility. Your 'trouble maker'. They kidnap children. They desecrate what you call holy ground. And they've just killed one of my last living descendants."
The lie was delivered with cold conviction. A calculated stroke to set his narrative. "I wouldn't have moved a spectral finger had these damned cultists not started first. Disrupting my eternal slumber."
Among the robed priests, one stood out. Taller than the rest. With a face almost too perfect. Too serene. Father Valleyer, the high priest.
Jack had already noticed him. His next target. He saw the almost imperceptible distortion in the holy aura around him. That was the artifact around his neck. The necklace. It was doing its job well.
Father Valleyer stepped forward. His voice was like polished steel sheathed in silk. "It's a dangerous spirit. Clearly, one of the malevolent entities seeking to sow discord. Priests! Exorcise this specter! Purge its malign influence from our sacred city!"
Several priests advanced. Armed with gleaming holy symbols and censers that swung with purpose. Incantations filled the smoky air. Resonating with what was supposed to be divine energy.
Beams of pure, shimmering light erupted from their hands. Lances of holy power aimed directly at Jack.
The light struck him. It washed over his spectral form. Illuminating him with an ethereal, almost beautiful glow. And then, it simply passed through.
Like mist through a sieve. It touched nothing. Affected nothing. Jack remained. Utterly unaffected. His gamble succeeded.
His maxed out Essence attribute and his passive traits: [Mysterious Nature], [Mythical Adaptation], and [Dominator Physique]... They gave him resistance that was close to immunity when facing exorcism.
"Oh, this is rich." Jack scoffed. His voice was dripping with feigned outrage and a touch of genuine amusement. "You send your weak little light against me? Against an ancient, wronged spirit? You mock me! You mock the very concept of vengeance!"
His spectral form seemed to ripple, expanding slightly. A wave of silent, inexplicable distortion emanated from him. This was [Mysterious Anomaly]. Cloaked in theatrical fury, ready to strike.
His gaze locked onto Father Valleyer. The high priest, for all his practiced composure, had a flicker of unease in his eyes.
Around his neck rested a small, ornate silver necklace. Intricately carved with the sunburst pattern. It pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible light. The concealing artifact.
Suddenly, without warning, the necklace flew from Valleyer's throat. It didn't float or drift. It was snatched. As if by an invisible hand moving with impossible speed. It zipped directly into Jack's intangible grasp.
"You think this trinket could hide your disgusting stench, Sinner?" Jack mocked.
The moment the necklace left Father Valleyer's neck, the serene façade shattered. His face twisted. The previous subtle distortion in his aura erupted into a hideous, crimson-black aura.
It swirled around him. Reeking of decay and foul magic. The sacred golden light of his priestly robes seemed to shrivel and dim under its influence. He was no high priest of Prosperity. He was a creature of corruption. A harbinger of blasphemy.